


Distraction

by Nightscrawl



Series: The Meaning of More [8]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 11:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17202377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightscrawl/pseuds/Nightscrawl
Summary: Where Dorian finds he is unable to think of anything but one person.





	Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to [Schattenriss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schattenriss/pseuds/Schattenriss) for doing the beta.

In Skyhold’s library nook, Dorian sat reading. Or rather, he attempted to read. He made a valiant effort—three whole pages in fifteen minutes! His crossed leg bounced and jittered as he attempted to concentrate on the words only to have flashes of thought and feeling and sensation intrude on his mind: hands sliding up his body, fingers in his hair, breath against his mouth.

This was ridiculous. They had just returned from a journey of several weeks where they were in constant company; they spent the night together, parting at breakfast that very morning. He was not deprived; he would probably see him later that day. He hadn’t felt this way in a very long time. But Judah had allowed that, hadn’t he? He’d left the door open and given him the opportunity to consider the possibility of what “more” could be. Dorian found himself edging closer to the threshold every day.

So lost in reverie was he that Dorian did not see Judah approach. The faint brush of fingers in his hair broke him out of it, startling him so badly that he jumped out of the chair, book slamming closed in his hands.

Judah was taken aback by this and stared at him, wondering what might cause such a reaction. “Are you all—” he began, and then he _saw_. He saw Dorian standing there, rigid and intense; he saw his eyes traverse the length of his body, understood, and the embers of his desire kindled into flame. Wary of their surroundings, he simply tilted his head in the direction of the doorway leading to the stairs and then turned toward it without waiting to see if he would be followed.

Dorian had been thinking of Judah and suddenly there he was before him. His breathing stopped, his eyes widened, his fingers tightened around the book. He wanted him then, and it had taken an effort to prevent himself from putting his hands on him right there in the library.

Want and desire were familiar feelings for Dorian Pavus, but not like this. With _this_ man, he wasn’t forced to be satisfied with a discrete fuck in a back room as the party continued on without them. _This_ man wanted him as well, and appreciated his attention and affection. But not just yet, and not _here_. Then he saw the tilt of the head and understood the suggestion. They were acting like a couple of horny teenagers. The thought was amusing and he brushed his face with a hand to hide a smile as he began to follow.

Through the door they went, then down the stairs, across the dais where sat the Inquisitor’s throne, through another door—Dorian’s fingers itched with the desire to touch, but he waited—down a lengthy passageway, up seemingly innumerable stairs, across the mezzanine, through the final door to Judah’s quarters, and that was far enough.

As the final door closed, Dorian grabbed Judah’s arm, pivoted him around, and pushed him into the wall before pressing himself bodily against him. He held Judah’s face in his hands while they kissed; it was hard and insistent and needful. Judah wrapped one arm around him, squeezing tightly, and raised the hand of the other to fist in his hair.

After some moments, Dorian began to want more and maneuvered a hand between them to unhook his belt support, then he lifted the locking latch and let it fall to the floor unceremoniously, barely registering the sound it made at his feet. Free of this obstruction, he thrust his pelvis against Judah with a soft grunt.

Judah made a small sound of pain as the metal ornament across Dorian’s chest pressed into his ribs. By now being familiar enough with the armor to know what to do about it, he brought his hand between them to undo another hook. Not bothering with the rest, he simply moved its attached leather strap over Dorian’s shoulder where it dangled and swayed with their movements.

They were as close as could be while still being clothed and Dorian began to grind against Judah. No undressing, no caresses or preparation, only need and want and pressure and friction. He brought a hand down to Judah’s hip, past his butt to his thigh, and raised the leg to wrap around himself, giving him a better angle. The metal ornaments on their clothing scratched and scraped as they moved against each other. Tiny moans escaped them with each thrust as sweet ache built stronger and stronger to final release. Eventually the kiss was broken as the need for everything else was eclipsed; their mouths remained close, barely touching, gasping in the same air.

They were equal here, each sharing the same sensation as the movement built up their pleasure. Each man froze as they fell over the edge, coming together with a groan that was felt as hot breath against each other’s mouths. Dorian sagged against Judah who sagged against the wall, breathing heavily as they started to come down.

Breath starting to calm, they held onto each other and began to kiss softly. Moving down Judah’s neck, Dorian became frustrated by the collar of his jacket, but made no move to undo it and contented himself with feeling the pulse against his lips. “Mm, now I’ll have to go change…” he complained, beginning to be annoyed with himself.

“You can wear something of mine,” Judah suggested.

Dorian spoke into Judah’s neck. “My dear Inquisitor, do you really think that if we get out of our clothes we’re going to be going anywhere else?”

Judah began to laugh. “No, probably not.”

 

 

End.


End file.
